


dawn's early light

by technorat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-02 10:40:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18809470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/technorat/pseuds/technorat
Summary: As the Statesman journeys towards Earth, the Revengers face another sort of problemOr, Thor is reckless with himself and Loki worries.





	dawn's early light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WickedlyEmma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedlyEmma/gifts).



For every tiny injury Loki had received in his first few hundred years of life, Thor had doted on him, as if he saw a future for himself in the arts of healing. He was sure that he had whined and cried and made a drama from even the slightest, most minuscule wounds and that Thor had taken every and every one seriously.

Now, many years later, it seems only fitting that Loki must return the favor.

Thor's arm is burnt, pitch and angry red. He holds his arm out, willingly, and doesn't say a word as Loki heals him. Golden light bathes Thor's arm, cooling, if Loki remembers his lessons correctly. (No one can fault him for thinking his lessons in healing dreary and unnecessary, especially when they had the service of all the healers at their disposal. Now, when only a few novices still live, Loki regrets yet another mistake in the chain of mistakes of his life.)

"There," Loki says, once the skin is pink and shiny, new growth coaxed. "Now, what have you learned?"

Thor flexes his arm, watches as the muscles move beneath his skin. And then he smiles, a beat too late. "You have my thanks," he tells Loki, pressing his other hand--the uninjured one--to the back of Loki's neck.

Quickly, before Thor can escape, Loki catches Thor's wrist, keeping it on his neck. "Thor," Loki says, warily. "You put yourself at risk. Again."

It had been little things, at first. Little things that had escaped Loki's notice. Thor skipping his own breakfast, and passing on his rations to someone else. Thor staying awake longer than he had to, there for all of his people except for his own self. And, worst of all, Thor increasingly volunteering to try to repair things to which he led himself to his own peril.

Which led to this day's mishap and the minor explosion in one of the lower decks.

Thor smiles. "We're all at risk, in Grandmaster's ship." He wrinkles his nose and leans closer, as if sharing a conspiracy. "You know, I think he skimped out on some rather important functions and funneled the money into some se--"

Loki holds up a hand. "I don't want to hear where that goes."

This, however, frees Thor. Thor lingers for half a moment, before pulling away. He smiles, but it does not reach his eye. "No? You seemed to be close to the Grandmaster."

"He was a deranged dictator."

"Exactly! Just your type."

Loki shakes his head. "Thor, I'm serious--"

"Brother--"

"If you don't want to talk to me, then why don't you talk to Bruce?" Loki asks. Bruce is something of a Midgardian healer. He had several phD's. One of those had to be something health related.

"Why do you call Bruce _Bruce_?" Thor asks, ignoring what Loki says entirely. It should feel annoying. It just feels like Thor is hiding from the truth. "You don't call any of my other friends by their first names."

Loki pinches the bridge of his nose and hates himself for allowing Thor to take this ridiculousness so far. "I'm not exactly friends with any of your other friends."

"Ah," Thor says, snapping his fingers--the fresh, pink, shiny fingers. "So you admit that you and Bruce are friends."

Loki scowls. "No--of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”

But it's too late.

Thor simply laughs and Loki knows the moment for interrogation has passed. "Thank you brother," he says, clapping a hand on Loki's shoulder before letting it slip and walking away, probably only to find more trouble, somewhere on the decks of the Statesman.

*

There are more incidents, of course, and Thor is quick to laugh them up as if they were mere jokes, all while blood still trickles from his wounds.

He does not know what to do—could not even begin to _think_ about what to do, it’s _Thor_ , Bor’s beard, _Thor._ So Loki does what Loki does best and squirrels himself away in an excellent hiding spot to think. He’d found a secluded section of the ship, beneath the noise of the engines. The large spaceport had an excellent view of the stars they flew past and doubled as a wonderful, cushioned perch. (He does not want to think what might have occurred on the cushioned perch nor why the Grandmaster might have had this little nook hidden away.)

“There’s something not right with your brother,” Valkyrie tells him, standing before his little cranny, hands on her hips.

Loki claps slowly. “Congratulations are in order for that conclusion.”

Valkyrie raises a brow, unimpressed. “Make room.”

He scoots over, but just barely. There is not much room available in the first place. Valkyrie sits beside him, uncaring of the very fact.

“He’s supposed to be king,” Valkyrie starts. “I didn’t agree to come out of exile—”

“A rather self imposed one at that,” Loki adds, under his breath.

She glares at him, daring him to say more. “I didn’t agree just because he was a prince. I came because there was no use hiding from my past and my failures. I came because I believed in Thor. So, tell me, how do we get Thor to come to the same conclusion that I did?”

Loki rests his hand against his chin, thinking for a moment. “He does not reach out for help,” he finally says.

“Yeah, I know. That’s kind of the problem there, Lackey.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. Thor, for all of his many, annoyingly many, strengths, his weakness remained the same: his pride was so often his downfall. Loki had thought that perhaps Thor outgrew it, but appears his hopes were placed wrong.

“There’s three of us,” Loki says. “Let’s make sure that Thor is not alone when he is… attempting to be helpful.”

“Three?” Valkyrie asks. “Where did you come up with that number?”

“Heimdall, you, and me make three,” Loki says.

“You forgot someone.”

Loki snorts. “Bruce or the Hulk? I fear that he may be more of a danger to both himself and Thor.”

“You need to give the big guy a chance. He means well.”

Loki feels a headache build between his temples. “He does, yes, but have you considered the stupidity the two of them could get into?” Without mentioning the fact that if Hulk got angry and decided to _smash_ , they would lose what little they had left.

“They’ve got two brain cells between them,” Valkyrie says, in a very offhand matter, considering she’s talking about her king. “I’m sure they will be fine.”

He presses his lips together, into a fine line, but acquiesces. “Fine. Who’s taking the first shift?”

*

The problem with their little plan to follow Thor around as he tries to be ‘helpful’ aboard the Statesman is simple: Thor knows Loki better than this.

Thor is sitting with the engineers, a ragtag and mismatched group consisting of Asgardians and gladiators alike. Normally, Loki would lurk the best he can, uninterested in the dull proceedings. But now, Loki finds a seat across his brother.

“—we will need to stop and refuel soon. We don’t have nearly enough to get us to Midgard.”

Thor nods thoughtfully. “Of course, when we get permission to land on a planet, I’ll be the first to disembark.”

Loki looks at him curiously. “Is that wise, o king of ours?” he asks.

Thor laughs, like Loki had told a great joke.

“I agree with the prince,” Heimdall says, coming to rare agreement with Loki. He was no engineer, but as right hand to the king, he did try to attend a fair number of meetings—which was more than could be said about Loki himself. “Perhaps we should send a diplomat when we do arrive. They would be more prepared for these sorts of things.”

“Nonsense,” Thor says lightly. “I am king. It would be my honor to do as I was trained to do.”

“The diplomats have done their jobs for hundreds of years, Thor. Perhaps the task could be ceded to one of them,” Loki says. And, if one of them were to die, then they would be replaced.

One could never replace Thor.

Loki does not tell him this.

“Brother,” Thor says warningly. “Don’t think I don’t know what you are doing.”

Loki blinks once, twice, and holds up his hands in innocence. “You’ll find no tricks up my sleeves,” he says, smile the peak of sincerity.

Thor laughs, because of course he does not take his brother seriously. At this sign, the other Asgardians around the table also descend into polite laughter, all but Heimdall, which Loki is grateful for. What else would be more _hilarious_ than the God of mischief without any of his little tricks?

He forces down the indignation that rises from within him.

Heimdall places a hand upon Loki’s shoulder. “Asgard has suffered loses too great as of late. It cannot bear your loss as well,” he says, never moving his golden gaze away from the plains of Thor’s face. The polite laughter dies, leaving only a sullen silence.

Thor crumbles under the weight of so many eyes upon him. “Yes, well—”

“Take heed his words, my king,” Loki says, not unkindly.

Thor swats him. “Alright,” he says, massaging his temples. “Alright. Meeting dismissed.”

*

Thor makes himself scarce soon enough. It’s impressive in a vessel so thoroughly filled with people.

“Can you see where he went?” Loki asks.

Heimdall shakes his head and turns, so that he looks out into the endless abyss of the void. “With Asgard gone, there is no need for a Watcher.”

“Now, you have no place being so melodramatic,” Loki scoffs. “That job obviously belongs to me.”

“How could I forget so easily?” Heimdall says, whatever mood he’d fallen into vanishing. “Perhaps the Hulk will find him in his wanderings. He is often an unexpected source of wise words.”

“Wise words indeed,” mutters Loki. Many of them crass or highly inappropriate or involve _smashing._

Alas, he could not say that he did _not_ enjoy seeing him shock the more uptight survivors with his words and his actions.

So they leave the Hulk to it.

*

There are days still were it feels as if the tension is growing to almost tangible levels. Asgard had not been a terribly large realm but now, with all the refugees of the golden realm packed into one pleasure vessel, it feels all the more shrunken. Fights, inevitably, occur.

Egos must be soothed and wounds must be mended and children must be corralled out of the way—often into whatever rooms the Hulk occupies at the moment.

(Surprisingly, for a _giant green rage monster_ , the Hulk possesses a remarkable fondness for children and the children possess a fondness for a living, moving playground.)

Loki sees the inside of the makeshift healers’ rooms than not, so when there is a commotion, he simply wipes his brow and flicks his finger, seidr binding his hair into a braid. “Move aside,” he tells the novices.

When he sees _what_ exactly had caused the commotion, he falters.

Thor is leaning heavily on Valkyrie, his knees weak beneath him. He grins, and brings up a single hand up in greeting. “Brother,” he says, as if he is not bleeding from his head.

“What happened?” Loki asks, looking from Thor to Valkyrie and yet receiving no explanation.

Then Thor laughs, as if his injuries are mere jest. “You should have seen your face,” he says.

Valkyrie rolls her eyes. “Will anyone help me or am I to lug him around longer?”

At that the nervous throng of novices help to gather Thor and bring him to an open berth. Everyone is talking, using soft, sweet words, so gentle with their king.

Thor laughs again. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” he says, dismissing everyone save Valkyrie and Loki.

Loki waves a hand, seidr shutting the door to the room and soundproofing it. “Now then,” he says, beginning to examine Thor’s wounds. “Will one of you tell me what happened or shall I find out myself?”

Thor waves him off. “I knew you always cared,” he says and Loki refuses to acknowledge the twinge of guilt for making Thor second guess his care.

“Thor,” Loki says slowly. “You have to talk to us. We want to help.”’

“Do you now?” He looks at the two of them strangely before laughing again. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Just a little scratch.”

Loki shakes his head. Words come easily to him. It is why among his titles Silvertongue had been so prominent. But now, baring his fear for his brother, his worry. His lips seal themselves. He raises his hands and summons healing seidr to heal all of Thor’s physical wounds.

The emotional ones would have to be healed differently, slowly, patiently, through the words and actions of all of Thor’s friends—should they be found on Midgard.

Valkyrie looks at Thor, her arms crossed over her chest. “My duty is to protect and serve the king of Asgard. That will be a little difficult if the king has a death wish.”

All is silent for one brief, glorious moment, and then Thor’s face turns red and he turns away.

“Brother…” Loki says slowly.

“You know… I have failed you all,” Thor says slowly. “Father— father said that Asgard is not a place, it’s a people. But it’s still sad to lose everything, everything we had grown up with. We shall never spend another sun-filled day within mother’s gardens. We shall never visit Heimdall in his Observatory. We shall— we shall never go on hunts again, me, you, the Warriors Three and Sif.”

Tears slip from Thor’s eye, down the plains of his cheek. “We didn’t get to say goodbye to them. We couldn’t even send them off properly.”

Valkyrie’s eyes widen. She had not expected the flood of words, of tears, of the electricity that prickles against their skins.

“Oh, what shall we do? We do not even know if the Midgardians shall accept us after we have lost so much,” Thor weeps into his hands.

Hesitantly, hesitantly, Loki places his hands on Thor’s shoulders. The electricity hurts, snapping against his fingertips. “It’ll be alright,” Loki tells him, trying to remember words of comfort Frigga had given him so long ago and coming up empty.

“We have time,” Valkyrie says. “And if they don’t accept us, there’s countless planets in this universe. Out there, somewhere, we will find home.”

Loki purses his lips before doing what he does best: he spins a lie. “Brother,” he says, “I have a good feeling about all of this. The Midguardians will surely accept us, so long as the Mighty Thor is the first to disembark from the alien ship, with a smile.”

“They know you, they trust you,” he continues, simpering all the while. “There is nothing to fear.”

All the while he casts a simple calming spell.

Thor’s shoulders bow and relax. He wipes away the tear tracks. Already, Thor’s mood is improving. “You’re right,” he chokes out. He reaches out and clasps the back of Loki’s neck.

Loki stiffens for a moment but lets it go.

And, after a while, Thor says, wryly, “You know, I know what a soothing spell feels like, brother.”

Loki laughs, because what else can he do? At least Thor has not choked him yet for the obvious affront.

Valkyrie watches them curiously, her eyes flickering between them.

“It reminds me of mother,” Thor says, his eye shining bright with unshed tears. That is a pain that Loki knows, all too dearly, and has no idea how to heal.

*

*

*


End file.
